


The Red and Purple Gardener

by MintiSnowflakes



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood and Gore, F/M, One-Shot, Revenge, rarepair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 05:46:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2570357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MintiSnowflakes/pseuds/MintiSnowflakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She grew beautiful red feelings for the red-blooded bastard. He cut her, threw her away, and left her to cultivate hateful, black instead. With the help of a monster, she would make him pay for destroying what she worked so passionately for. A one-shot following Disciple and her revenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Red and Purple Gardener

He shouldn't have said no. He shouldn't have thrown her red feelings away as easily as he did. She cultivated her red for him like a precious plant, acting on his beck and call in place of water and listening to him passionately deliver his sermons in place of sunlight. He knew she was red for him. She felt more red than the bastard blood that ran through his veins, the very blood that forced him into exile.

The very blood that would spill from her fingers as vengeance.

He was cruel to her, calling her awful things and refusing to be alone with her. With the reveal of her red secret came the shatter of the trust he held in her and the expulsion from the rest of their motley crew. She found sadness in the days that passed instead of joy. She cried until she hiccuped and Dolorosa had to wipe her face dry because Disciple could not bring herself to care. She had dreamed about beautiful, warming red and all she was given in return was hateful black.

With that blackness deep in her thoughts, she ran. She ran away from the caring Dolorosa, the smart-mouthed Psiioniic, the dream-shattering Signless. She ran until she found someone who could assist her in her red revenge; her solace came in the form of a Subjuggulator. She begged to see Him, and the brutish troll complied.

She had made a deal with the Grand Highblood: with her knowledge of the group's traveling plans, she would assist the superior colors in taking down the red runt granted she would be the one to end him. Although it seemed that Grand Highblood did not particularly care whether or not Signless was captured, Disciple's passion and drive brought him to care more and more until her excitement led him into a raging bloodlust that could not be cured unless she were there to console him.

That is how her blackness began to melt to purple. She found comfort in sitting beside his throne in a feline fashion, hands lifted to the arm of the vast chair as her fingers poked and prodded playfully at his arm. She was so lowly compared to him, but he brought her happiness. The "fool's red" she felt whenever he invited her to slaughter a prisoner, whenever he congratulated her on disemboweling the victim with refinement, whenever he patted her head from his throne, and whenever he tickled her mind with pinpricks of laughter and screams and washes of purple.

Although a vengeful fire burned inside her, she was content with her lowly position by his throne. She was content with being treated like a beast because she felt cared for. Although she may not have really been worthy, she felt it when he patted her head so gently or when he chuckled deeply at her playful antics.

When he finally came, she hesitated.

The troll before her, beaten and bleeding that bastard candy red, looked defiant. She searched his face, called his name, but he stood tall and proud as though he had no collection spending sweeps upon sweeps with her at his side. She hit him, but he did not speak to her. She drew more of his blood, red like the boiling feelings she cultivated like flowers for him, but he did not show weakness. She searched for emotion, something to let her know that all of this was a silly game and that he really did care for her, but all she found was pride and stubbornness.

He died at her hands, bastard blood dripping from her claws and pooling around his mangled corpse. In an effort to keep some of the happiness he gave her alive, her last act to him was simple: a pointed claw brought up the corners of his scratched mouth to a smile as she poked and prodded at his eyeballs and their sockets. Once she deemed that he was happy in death, she leaped away from the corpse and returned to the side of the one troll who gave her what she wanted.

She had provided him new paint, and he would provide her with affection. He would treat her like a precious mew-beast, and perhaps he would be thankful for her presence. She would cultivate red for him, and he would try to admire her work and reward her for such dedication. She would feel red for this monster, and perhaps, he would do what the bastard blooded troll could not.

**Author's Note:**

> Bringing this story over from my other account on another site because someone said they liked Disciple/GrandHighblood. I will definitely write more of these two (an actual story) if it is accepted well.


End file.
